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Anybody else than Kristi and I who got inspired by the pictures in "A Little Princess"?
Kristi says: The coverlet gave me ideas not for weaving but for quilting if I could find the right fabric.
If you find either the coverlet or the rug in this picture inspiring — any technique, any material — make a sketch and blog about it!
Leave a comment here and link to this post.
I've no idea how many times I read "Lilla prinsessan" ("A Little Princess") by Frances Hodgson Burnett, as a child. I loved the book and I loved the cover illustration, how I envied Sara that pink dress. Being chubby and blond, I think I knew that I'd look like an puff pastry with pink icing, in a dress lika that — but one could always dream. 
The edition of "A Little Princess", from 1937, that I found today, has illustrations by Ethel Franklin Betts. Lovely illustrations as they're not as sentimental as some I've seen before. 
Look at this coverlet, you can weave a copy of it, just by looking at the picture!
I might reread the book, I wonder if I'll cry as much now, as I used to.
Anybody else than Kristi and I who got inspired by the pictures in "A Little Princess"?
I've no idea how many times I read "Lilla prinsessan" ("A Little Princess") by Frances Hodgson Burnett, as a child. I loved the book and I loved the cover illustration, how I envied Sara that pink dress. Being chubby and blond, I think I knew that I'd look like an puff pastry with pink icing, in a dress lika that — but one could always dream. 
The edition of "A Little Princess", from 1937, that I found today, has illustrations by Ethel Franklin Betts. Lovely illustrations as they're not as sentimental as some I've seen before. 
Look at this coverlet, you can weave a copy of it, just by looking at the picture!
I might reread the book, I wonder if I'll cry as much now, as I used to.
My camera is as dead as can be. It's beyond repair and I find it annoying (to say the least) that so many things today are not repairable — or that it is more expensive to get it repaired than to buy a new camera — or what happens to be broken.
We managed to fit in our yearly picnic, by the river, one of the last warmish days in August. Just a few days before my friend had to return to London.
